


Labors of Valentines

by slightlied



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, Cupid AU, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, M/M, so uhhh this isnt rlly canon HAHAH, this is like canon except yuri and mila and jj are gods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 12:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12035577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlied/pseuds/slightlied
Summary: With all of his experience, one would think that the god of love would be an expert in the subject. That’s what Yuri had thought too, anyway, until Victor and Yuuri.--in which yuri is cupid, god of love, and the next couple he needs to match is his most impossible assignment yet





	Labors of Valentines

**Author's Note:**

> i promised this like 3 millennia ago but!!! it's here. thanks again for 1k on tumblr :)

Yuri’s not entirely sure how he’s ended up at this ice rink.

He remembers matching two girls in Italy—the easiest assignment in his _entire_ multi-millennial career. They’d been so in love already; they had hardly needed his help.

He remembers going to see his mother about it. “I don’t even know why I had to match them in the first place,” he had told her, slightly irritated. “It was a waste of my time.”

Venus had just laughed sweetly, the sound ringing like chiming bells in his ears. “Careful, darling boy, you’ll tempt the heavens.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Yuri had asked huffily. The goddess of love had simply winked at him, and Yuri had rolled his eyes. He’d opened his mouth again to make some snarky comment about _the heavens_ and Jupiter and his grumpy, old—

And then Yuri had heard something.

“What was that?” He’d whipped his head around to stare at his mother.

“Sorry, darling?”

The sound was growing louder. Yuri cocked his head to the side. Sweet music…

“I…” He closed his eyes in concentration, a gentle buzzing underlying the music he was hearing. “Mother, I have to go,” he murmured softly.

Yuri drifted away, listening for Earth and ignoring his mother’s confused calls.

 

 

 

 

Yuri remembers these things, but can’t seem to connect them to where he has travelled to. He had mindlessly followed the music, something familiar he hadn’t heard in a while. When his feet touch (or rather, drift over) ice, he blinks at his surroundings. The music is ending now, and its final notes softly spill out of a speaker at the edge of the ice. The silver-haired man standing next to it crosses his arms and smiles.

“That was called ‘On Love: Agape,’” he says. “What do you think, Yuuri?”

Yuri gapes at him in shock. He stutters out, “Y-you can see me?”

But the man stares right through Yuri, at a younger man with dark hair standing behind him. Yuri blinks again, whirling around to try and comprehend what’s happening. He watches the second man consider his answer for a bit.

“It sounded very innocent,” he says slowly. “Like someone who’s never felt love before.”

The silver-haired man nods cheerfully. “Onto the next piece. This one is ‘On Love: Eros.’”

 _Agape_ . _Eros._ Yuri doesn’t use those names anymore, but hearing them are like soft, well-worn clothes that drape over him like extra layers of skin.

As the new music plays, he watches the other Yuuri’s face grow warm. A light buzzing grows in Yuri’s ear.

“It’s a completely different song, Victor,” Yuuri breathes out. He fidgets with the gloves on his hands, looking shy.

Victor grins at him with sparkling eyes. “I want you to dance to this one.”

The buzzing grows louder.

Oh.

_Oh._

Yuri stares at the two men. The two men stare at each other, oblivious to the mythical immortal in their presence.  

“I’ll,” Yuuri says after a moment. He gives a small smile, and it should be impossible, but he looks even shyer. Yuri realizes after a beat that it’s not shyness he wears on his face, no. This man, Yuuri, looks… determined, challenged, and affectionate, all at once. If Yuri had a heart, it would be caught in his throat. “I’ll give it the best eros I’ve got,” Yuuri says.

Victor beams.

_Oh, heavens._

 

 

 

 

Evidently, Yuri’s ended up in Hasetsu, Japan. Evidently, the two men Victor and Yuuri are his next match.

The thing is, is that Yuri’s been doing this for a long time. He doesn’t even know how old he is, or what the first match he made was. He was born from the sea foam alongside his mother. Just literally walked out and got to work. He was a god. They came into existence because there was a purpose they needed to serve. And Yuri knew his.

Yuri had tried explaining this to a human once, back when he allowed himself to be visible to them. Humans don’t really understand the concept of abstract, mythical origins, however—they can hardly grasp the concept of love as is.

But if there was a hit counter of all the matches he’s ever made—which now that he thinks about it, the Fates probably do have, like a huge celestial binder with case studies and everything—Yuri figures he’s well into the fifty thousand (or billion) figures. The point is that he’s been doing this for a long time, and if he’s being honest, Yuri wields the most powerful magic of all. Screw Jupiter and Neptune and their fancy thunderbolts and tridents. Those are only for trifling with mortals. Love, on the other hand, commands humans and gods alike to do incredibly stupid, stupidly incredible things. (He’s still getting shit for matching Helen and Paris, and _yes_ , Yuri’s going to take credit for the greatest epic of all time.)

So with all of his experience, one would think that the god of love would be an expert in the subject. That’s what Yuri had thought too, anyway, until Victor and Yuuri.

He follows the two around for a week. Yuri notices that these two men in Japan are very similar to the two women he had matched in Italy. They’re so _intertwined,_ is the thing.

“The Fates did quite a number on them,” Yuri appraises, directing his words as a message to his mother. He watches Victor and Yuuri warming up on the ice, marvels at how they dance around each other like two flickers of the same flame.

She doesn’t take long to reply. _Exquisite,_ her voice rings in his head, and Yuri knows she’s peeking into his eyesight. He usually hates that gods can communicate like this, hates when JJ bursts into his mind like the perverted intruder he is—“You’re a fucking plague,” Yuri spit at him once. JJ was quick to reply cheerfully, his words echoing as if through tiny, slimy tendrils, _Good thing I’m the god of plagues, isn’t it?_ —or when Mila peeks in during one of her health and wellness check-ups—“Did you perhaps forget that I’m, I don’t know, immortal?” Yuri asks, outraged, every single time. The goddess never dignifies him with a reply, just blows him mental kisses and sends over her signature basket of fruit and grains.

For his mother, he makes a welcome (compulsory) exception, though.

 _Can I…?_ she probes, and he understands what she’s requesting.

“Let me know if you find anything useful,” he mutters. He relinquishes his memories over the past week and they roll in like clouds on the front of his mind, the scenes dissolving between each other.  

Victor and Yuuri eating together. Yuuri stares too long at Victor’s lips, which glisten with vegetable oil from the food.

Victor combing Yuuri’s hair as the other man absently scrolls through his phone.

Yuuri dancing to his Eros routine. Victor always has a gleam in his eyes but they seem to shine brighter that day. (They shine brighter every time Yuuri breathes out, “I’m skating for you.”)

Yuuri jolting awake as Victor slips into his bed one night. His face screams out for him, _V-Victor?!_ , but the older man throws an arm over his midsection and any protest trying to make its way out of his mouth is effectively silenced.

 _Seems like you’ve got your work cut out for you,_ Venus notes.

Yuri grits his teeth. “That’s the thing. They shouldn’t even need my help.”

 _And yet._ Her quiet laughter follows him mockingly for the rest of the day.

 

 

 

 

Yuri knows it’s too late to use love at first sight. It doesn’t mean he won’t try, though.

 _To be reduced to the basics_ , Yuri thinks to himself painfully. He’s decided that Victor and Yuuri are the most frustrating mortals he’s ever encountered, so he barely hesitates before laying the magic on a little thick. It doesn’t take him much effort, to visit their sleeping forms and leave feather-light touches on their eyelids, willing their hearts to open wretchedly the moment they set their sights on each other. Yuri gets a heady rush himself thinking about it, can easily imagine the warmth that envelops the body, starting from the core and swirling outward. The light buzz that rings throughout the mind, the quick flutter of blinking eyes against the agonizingly slow beating of the heart, and Yuri can almost taste what he’s dishing out, like searingly sweet syrup and—

He freezes in the middle of bewitching Yuuri, who reaches out a sloppy hand toward him. “Victor,” the man mumbles thickly. “Let me… s-leep…”

The hand hovers in the air for a moment before abruptly dropping like lead. Yuri exhales, dizzy, recovering from the rush that leaves him as quickly as it swept him away. He makes quick work with the rest of the enchantment and tries to overcome his embarrassment from the fact that if he had been in his solid form, he would have been a dead man.

Or, as close to a dead man as he could be, anyway.

He settles back, tired now, not so much from using his powers but from the stress of it all. He rubs his temple and barely resists transmitting another divine tantrum to his mother.

He spares another look at Yuuri’s sleeping form before leaving. It’s not that he’s expecting this to work, but. The god of love’s never really listened to matters of the mind over matters of the heart, anyway.

 

 

 

 

Something is wrong.

Something’s gone _terribly wrong._

Yuri watches in disbelief as Yuuri returns to the onsen, sweaty and panting from his morning run, and greets Victor at the breakfast table. He slides into the seat opposite Victor and the redness in his cheeks is either from having physically exerted himself or from the cheery _“Ohayo, Yuuri!”_ that Victor coos at him, but most importantly it is not from Yuri’s enchantment.

Yuri curses in frustration, ignores the crack of thunder that rumbles in response. The ichor that runs through his veins is near-boiling. “What the fuck,” he says.

Victor steals a piece of egg from Yuuri’s bowl, and Yuuri laughs and reaches over to wipe at a piece of rice stuck on the corner of Victor’s mouth. It’s like they can’t even feel the liquid fire burning through their chests right now.

Yuri _knows_ his magic, and there’s no way they’re not feeling it. His reserves are burnt through; he checks to make sure, as both Victor and Yuuri reach down to pet at Makkachin’s fur at the same time. Their fingers brush against each other, and Victor lingers for just a moment before they pull away.

“What the fuck,” Yuri says again. His eyes narrow at them, at their too-happy faces, at their too-wide smiles. They _must_ be feeling the cupid magic, but where’s the too-fast beating of their hearts? Where’s the lung-shrinking, stomach-dropping loss of their breaths?

There have been more than a few instances, too, in Yuri’s experience with this particular enchantment, when accidental confessions were made and, in the case of one rockstar and his backup dancer in the seventies, they’d eloped right then and there.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Yuuri’s sister and mother entering the room before Mari is promptly tugging Hiroko back into the kitchen with the hand that’s not cupping a bowl of food.

“I can’t stand when they get like this,” she says. “Let’s eat in here.”

Hiroko frowns. “Oh, but Yuuri-kun and Vicchan are always like this.”

“And I can only stomach it for one meal a day,” Mari mutters. “Preferably not the one first thing in the morning.”

Yuri blinks and whirls back around to stare again at Victor and Yuuri, who have now taken to shooting each other looks when they think the other is not looking.

 _They’re always like this,_ Hiroko’s voice echoes in his head.

Yuri sighs. _So it’s like that,_ he thinks.

 

 

 

 

Obviously his mother is not much help, but seeing as Victor and Yuuri are quickly turning into a Dilemma, Yuri’s kind of desperate. The god of love has to be, if he’s seeking out the god of war for advice.

Unlike Yuri, Mars likes to stay visible within the mortal world. And contrary to what his role in the universe entails, Mars actual duty is to _maintain_ peace, not disrupt it, which is how that afternoon finds Yuri walking into the United Nations Headquarters in New York City.

He finds his father’s office easily enough. **_SENIOR ADVISOR TO THE SECRETARY-GENERAL_ ** glistens on a shiny placard on his door. Yuri waits for a beat to make sure he’s not preoccupied, although Mars must know he’s here because suddenly he finds himself materializing on the other side.

“Yuri!” he greets.

His father looks... old. He has a stern, aged face and choppy grey and black hair beneath a flat beret. He sits behind a huge desk in modern business attire and papers cover every inch of his office. Certificates, newspaper clippings. Briefing reports, council agendas. A map of the world is decorated with pins on the wall adjacent to the huge window that sits behind him, a thirty-eighth floor view of the East River and Long Island lying beyond it.

“What can I help you with?” Mars has a gruff voice no matter what mortal form he possesses. Still, it’s commanding, fit for what his entire aura demands. Yuri could probably feel it in his soul, if he had one.

“I’m, um. Here to ask for some advice.”

Mars’ eyebrows, thick and greying like the hair on top of his head, jump upwards. “Alright then,” he says. He gestures at one of the leather armchairs in front of his desk for Yuri to sit.

 _Desperate_ , the word rings through Yuri’s mind again as he makes himself comfortable. While he explains, he’s only interrupted once, by a colleague who drops off some more briefing papers.

“Nikolai,” the officer greets. She turns a curious smile towards Yuri. “Who’s this precious thing?”

Yuri startles a bit, not realizing he had solidified into mortal form. “Uh...” he says. It’s a bad idea, because her eyebrows quirk at the sound of his voice. Her head is already tilting, studying him, but fortunately Mars doesn’t skip a beat.

“My grandson stopped by,” he says. He gives her a smile like they’re sharing a joke. “Not even any warning.”

“Teenagers,” she chuckles and nods. She turns another hesitant smile towards Yuri before waving at _Nikolai_ and closing the door behind her.

“Grandson?” Yuri turns toward Mars, who returns an equally appraising look.

“I couldn’t possibly father someone who looks as youthful and sprightly as you at this age and try to remain dignified about it in this field of work,” Mars says with a bit of a huff.

“At this age?” Yuri leans back in his chair. “What, six thousand years? Give or take,” he adds.

“Six thousand years.” Mars snorts. “What am I, a caterpillar?” He rests his chin in one hand, then, pensive. “When’s the last time you walked amongst mortals?”

“I prefer to work behind the scenes,” Yuri tells him truthfully. “Too much hassle to answer questions all the time.”

“And you don’t think you raise any questions while you work _‘behind the scenes,_ ’” Mars says it like it’s not a question. His eyes are deep, boring into Yuri’s with the quiet strength of someone who has strategized battle since before the mortal world was even created.

Yuri scowls a bit. “I’m not obligated to answer them, at least.”

“Well if you don’t want to solve your problem by making yourself visible—“

“I don’t.”

“—what’s that saying humans like to throw around in popular culture so much? The one about me and your mother.” Mars’ chair creaks with his weight as he leans forward.

“All’s fair in love and war?” Yuri offers.

Mars’ eyes are positively _twinkling_ and, for once, he looks like someone fit to be Venus’ husband. He retains some of his military presence while he shines with excitement; a general on the cusp of victory. He slams a firm hand on the mahogany of his desk.

“All’s fair in love and war,” he repeats with a smile.  

 

 

 

 

This time, Yuri thinks he’s got them. If he were to look in a mirror right now—if he were able to find a reflection looking back at his astral form, that is—he figures he’d probably look as maniacal as his father had been.

“It’s Makkachin,” Yuuri tells Victor at the Rostelecom Cup, cell phone held to his ear. His face is pale and his eyes are wide and glassy. “You have to go.”

“Yuuri,” Victor starts but then his face grows resigned, and he nods tiredly.

Later, Yuuri walks Victor to a cab outside their hotel and they share a quiet, tender hug as a goodbye. Watching them, Yuri can feel the ache in their chests only grow stronger over the course of the next twenty-four hours. He’s quite pleased with himself. _‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder’_ was always a nifty one; everything _is_ fair in love and war. It’s a pleasant reminder. Energizing, and the kind of pep talk he had needed.

When Victor and Yuuri reunite tearfully at Fukuoka Airport, the buzzing in Yuri’s ear is at an all-time high. Strangely enough, the poodle at their feet seems to be staring directly at Yuri with the dumbest expression on her face. As if she’s thanking him for not sacrificing her so completely.

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” he mumbles. She wags her tail happily and weaves herself around her owner’s legs as Victor steps into Yuuri’s embrace.

“Please be my coach until I retire,” Yuuri says when he pulls away.

Victor’s gaze on him softens, and he presses a gentle kiss to Yuuri’s knuckles. “It’s almost like a marriage proposal,” he says.

And Yuri thinks _yes._ Those should be the words right there. One matched pair. Signed, sealed, and delivered from one particularly brilliant god of love. Yuri waits for the thunder-like crack of sound, for the celestial red string to twine through their mortal souls.

Yuri waits.

Yuri waits.

Yuri waits.

“Is this a joke?” He asks finally, looking up as if speaking to the Fates themselves. “Or some sort of punishment?” It has felt like millennia, although in reality it’s only been roughly half of a mortal year. Still. Months and months of watching this unmatched pair _basically_ turn matched, of the buzzing in Yuri’s ear reaching new heights every time, of using more magic than any god should probably be allowed to use on mortals.

Yuri is so, so tired.

“Give me a sign,” he sighs out.

Makkachin takes a shit on the spot directly underneath where his astral form hovers.

 

 

 

 

Yuri is so tired that at the next council meeting he doesn’t even fake-gag when JJ makes his ever-annoying musical entrance. It’s always been like this; usually it’s a choir, sometimes it’s a marching band. Once, he was accompanied by what seemed like the members of a mortal girl group.

“Girls’ Generation!” JJ had announced that time with a flourish. “So talented. They’re all the rage!” He had winked in Jupiter’s direction. “Nothing a drop of water from the Lethe won’t fix, pops, don’t worry.” As if he didn’t bring mortals as his personal party tricks every time.

Jupiter had grunted, and the girls behind JJ fell into several formations before popping, locking, and blowing several kisses to their godly audience. JJ had them do a quick **_#SUNGODSTYLE_ ** for good measure.

Now that Yuri thinks about it, his gags aren’t even fake. They are one hundred percent, genuine gags. And somewhere between synthesizers and philharmonic orchestras, he’s decided that synchronized choreography is definitely JJ’s worst bag.

Fortunately, JJ’s brought with him a solo violinist this time. Or rather—unfortunately. Yuri knows immediately what this means. He vaguely recognizes the melody as Massenet’s “Méditation” from _Thaïs_ when JJ approaches his seat at the Lectisternium. As a minor god, Yuri’s seat isn’t on the circle of couches that frames the banquet hall’s main floor, but in one of the outer rings. He sits just one row behind the main ring, behind the shared love seat that hosts his mother and father. He rolls his eyes as Mars shoots little hearts made out of fire at Venus. Her giggles, bright like bells, carry into the increasingly-loud hall as gods continue to file in.

Before JJ even opens his mouth, Yuri rolls over on his couch to face the other way and says, “No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I was going to ask.” JJ’s pout is bright and ugly and practically audible.

Yuri feels a dip in the seat next to him and scowls. “You’re going to ask what you always ask when you have strings with you,” Yuri says. He feels only a small ounce of pity for the mortal JJ’s got following him around with the dullest, most tragic melody ever. “It’s only been a few dozen millennia, don’t act surprised that I’ve noticed. Fuck off, I’m never helping you with your love life.”

Never _again_.

“But this time, I love him,” JJ’s voice is insistent and annoying, and Yuri screws his eyes shut. “Really, really love him.”

Yuri scoffs. “If you think it’s as simple as that, then you’re a bigger f—“

“Now, now,” Mila’s voice buts in. Yuri’s scowl deepens as he peeks one eye open and spies her signature red head popping up behind JJ. The distinct smell of of bread wafts up his nose at her arrival. “What’s this? Won’t you smile, brother?”

“Take your seat, you old hag.” He glares pointedly at the other side of the hall.

JJ crosses his arms and pouts. “We’re not even starting yet and Yuri’s in a terrible mood.”

Mila tuts sympathetically, _as if_ she doesn’t know Yuri’s _always_ in a terrible mood when it comes to JJ. She must see something in the frown on Yuri’s face, though, and she smiles knowingly. “Ah, is this about your Dilemma?”

JJ perks up and turns his gaze back on Yuri. “You’ve got a Dilemma?” His voice is loud and attracts the attention of some of the gods around them. Yuri sees his parents turning their heads to the side like they’re listening in and shakes his head hard enough for his skull to crack.

If only.

“Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki are not my fucking Dilemma,” Yuri says sharply. No way in Pluto’s hell.

JJ frowns. “Aren’t you due for a Dilemma? When was your last?”

“I don’t know,” Yuri grumbles. He thinks. “The Trojan War, I guess.”

Some murmurs arise within the gods around them, and JJ whistles. “This Victor and Yuuri rival the likes of Helen and Paris?”

“Yes,” Mila says.

“No,” Yuri says. He glares amidst the increased murmurs. “Shut up. You don’t know anything.”

Bin, a minor god of war and valor, speaks up from where he sits on his couch next to Yuri’s. “Surely you’d let us know before you start another epic war?” he says with a frown.

“They are not my Dilemma and we’re not having another war,” Yuri snaps. His voice rings through the air, light and beautiful and not at all like the jagged edges of his arrows he wishes he could shoot at all of them with. The entire Lectisternium falls quiet, even as a handful of gods continue to make their way to their seats, and Yuri realizes Jupiter has already taken a seat at the head of the main ring. Phichit, his ever-dutiful messenger god, floats by his side. He gives Yuri a half-hearted wave and a sympathetic smile.

Yuri sighs as Mila frowns at him before she makes her way to her own seat on the main ring. That’s a guaranteed extra health and wellness check-up later, then.

JJ is at least not dense enough not to know when his cue to leave is, and he pats Yuri’s thigh as he stands. “I suppose my love life can wait while you sort out your Dil—“ he stops at Yuri’s glare, “er, your Victor and Yuuri.”

 _My Victor and Yuuri,_ Yuri thinks irritably. They’re hardly his. They’re hardly even each other’s, at this rate.

 

 

 

 

The check-up from Mila is, again, expected. She finds him after the meeting is over and he follows her with the resigned compliance of someone who’s been dragged around by the deity of life and nourishment since the literal beginning of time.

“You should relax, you know,” she says as she passes into the mortal world. Yuri, registering their surroundings, realizes that she’s brought him back to Ice Castle Hasetsu. Victor and Yuuri are skating together, unaware of their presence at the mouth of the rink. Watching them is irritating as ever, what with the way they look into each other eyes like every bit the matched pair that they should be, but aren’t.

“It’s funny, because whenever you say that it makes me do the opposite of relax,” Yuri says, even as the feeling of a crackling fireplace overtakes his core. The smell of bread is subtle this time, like buttered croissants rising gently in an oven.

Mila frowns at him over her shoulder. “Aren’t you relaxed?”

“Only until you leave,” Yuri mutters. He glares at the spot above the two skaters and imagines red string shooting through the air. He is not, unfortunately, the god of willing things into existence.

“It’s really not good for you to be so aggravated,” Mila says. “Think about what would happen to your responsibilities.” She turns her attention back to Victor and Yuuri and sighs. “They are quite lovely, though.”

“What do you mean my responsibilities?” Yuri’s brow furrows.

“Our mood affects our magic, of course,” Mila says this like it’s obvious. “And your aura is so tense, it’s like…” She frowns. “When’s the last time you interacted with mortals?”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “I don’t need your lecture about how we _need_ to engage with mortals—“

“Because _we do_ , Yura.”

“—I maintain my power and my responsibilities just fine without,” he says with a cross of his arms.

There’s a sharp cry from the ice as Victor attempts to lift Yuuri into the air and promptly drops him, taking both of them down. There’s a soft _solnyshko, are you alright?_ and light, breathy laughter as Yuuri rolls over and gathers his breath. His hand reaches for Victor’s and squeezes. “M’fine. Let’s try again,” he says.

Victor smiles, all teeth and warmth and excitement. Yuri is reminded distantly of a certain god of the sun. “Okay.”

They help each other up and Yuuri blushes as he pushes away on his blades. “From the top.”

Victor’s hand stretches towards him as he continues to skate away, and then falls gently back to his side. “Okay,” he says again.

Mila snickers under her breath. “Just fine, huh.”

“Shut up, hag.”

“Maybe they’re like that mortal Georgi Popovich,” Mila suggests. “Maybe they’re not meant to be matched at all, ever.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. Fuck Georgi Popovich. “I wish,” he says.

 

 

 

 

It’s not that Mila has a point, but Yuri’s not entirely stupid enough to forgo the advice of a principal goddess. He waits outside the onsen for a bit, beating around the proverbial and literal bush. He has to come up with some answers, after all. _Mortals and their questions_.

He checks himself over. Dark wash jeans. Graphics print shirt. Denim jacket. Classic twenty-first century twenty-year-old; he looks close enough to Yuuri and Victor’s ages that he can execute his plan, and anyway Yuri has never really figured out how to look a day into someone in their twenties. _Youthful and sprightly_ , Mars had said. Yuri snorts a bit, combs a hand through his hair and wills away his nerves.

“Fuck, okay,” he whispers to himself. “Okay. Just—just fucking do it.”

(Victoria, he thinks, would be proud.)

He makes his way inside and sees Mari’s eyes go wide where she’s posted at the counter. “Can I help you?” she asks a bit breathlessly. Her eyes rake over his form, and it’s easy to feel as if he’s wrapped only in a cotton sheet.

“Um,” he says. He clears his throat, tries to make his voice go a little more ragged and rough. “Reservation for Yuri Plisetsky.”

**Author's Note:**

> \+ glossary of the gods...  
> 
> 
> * jj is apollo: sun, music, plagues, healing  
> 
> * mila is ceres: nourishment, wellness, grains, agriculture  
> 
> * yes!! dedushka nikolai is mars: war, military  
> 
> * phichit is mercury: communication, commerce, travelers, thieves  
> 
> * yes that was cao bin as nerio: valor, war  
> 
> * venus is still venus: love  
> 
> * victoria is still victoria: victory  
> 
> * jupiter is still jupiter: sky, thunder, king of the gods
> 
> \+ a godly Dilemma is a point in a millennium when a god’s powers are tested  
> \+ an actual [lectisternium](https://cocktailcalendar.files.wordpress.com/2013/12/saturnalia.jpg) of the roman gods is actually far more laidback and really only focuses on the principal gods but let’s just roll widdit and pretend there are godly matters that they take care of in a nice and organized fashion ok  
> \+ yea the trojan war is greek peroooooo… 
> 
> thank you for reading!! please let me know what you think :) part two should come out in 2 weeks


End file.
